Primum Non Nocere
by atheneblue
Summary: First, to do no harm... Albert Rosenfield x Laura Palmer.  Crack AR PWP.  M is for sexual language and situations, including some light BDSM and roleplay.


A/N: Pure ridiculous AR crack PWP. I hope it's fun, as long as you don't think about it too hard. Like the fact that Laura would be underage, or that Albert didn't meet her until she was dead on a slab. Yeah, don't think about that stuff. Several lines and images cribbed from the show. Characters are NOT mine.

"I was invited," Laura heard him say. Her lips curved in a smile at the sneer in his voice. She angled her head to watch the agent flash a stylized poker chip at the bouncer and hand his trenchcoat to Blackie. The madam aimed a saucy moue in Laura's direction, then disappeared from the younger woman's line of sight. The newcomer looked around at the motley crew assembled in the saloon of One-Eyed Jack's. Tonight's party was by invitation only. In addition to the Jack's highrollers, each of the girls had gotten one admission chip for a guest. The idea was probably to invite an unwitting girlfriend.

Lord knows what had gotten into her, but Laura had given her chip to Albert Rosenfield.

He smoothed his suit jacket and tie. He appeared in no way nonplussed by either his surroundings or her current predicament. In fact, his air suggested that he might own the place.

"Laura," he said crisply, greeting her (or, more specifically, her backside).

She smiled at him, blonde hair framing her face. "Sorry if I don't get up," she said pertly, then winced at the sudden pop across her right buttock. When she started to giggle, the client she knew as Clarence spanked her again, which just made her giggles worse. The corset around her ribcage restricted her breathing, and she gasped helplessly with mirth.

Albert tilted his head. She hoped he was eyeing her bouncing backside, and she resisted the urge to position her high-heeled feet farther apart. Clarence had pulled her panties all the way down to the top of her gartered stockings; the folds of her sex, she knew, were clearly visible under the fullness of her buttocks.

To her disappointment, the federal agent walked around to stand by the table on which she had braced her elbows. She tossed her blonde mane and looked up at him, arching her back to show her decolletage to better effect. Clarence smacked her firmly, a little jealous of the interloper, she imagined. A cry of surprise bubbled out of her, laughter on its heels. Albert ignored the client, some aging businessman friend of Ben Horne if she remembered right, and peered down into her eyes. His manner was distressingly akin to that of a man examining a pinned insect specimen.

"Laura, your pupils don't appear to be dilated, but, so help me, if you have coke, crank, smack, weed, ice, K, 'ludes, poppers, or any other permutation of uppers, downers, or mind-altering substances on board right now, I am walking right out the door of this overdecorated henhouse and leaving you to Rip Van Winkle here."

She choked back another giggle as Clarence spluttered, "Now you wait one goddamned minute, mister..."

Albert sighed and raised his eyebrows in an aggressively expectant manner.

The older man looked at Laura for help, having apparently exhausted his store of Canadian-poor expletives. Laura righted herself and pulled up her panties in one smooth motion. She glanced at Albert, then took Clarence by the arm, smiling. "Let's see if we can't find Ronette for you."

"Ronette doesn't like to be spanked like you do, Laura," the silver-haired man sulked.

Watching Albert the entire time, Laura whispered at length into the client's ear. Something she said made Clarence's eyes light up with delight. Grimacing with distaste, Albert took a seat at the table Laura had only just vacated and flicked a raised hand at one of the waitresses. The thumb of his other hand commenced a nervous drumming on his thigh. Laura directed at the federal agent one of these slow, creeping smiles that she knew showed off her full lips, then led Clarence toward Ronette, who was just reappearing from the back.

When Laura returned, she leaned forward to flash her widened eyes in Albert's face. "I'm straight," she informed him, resting her gloved hands on his shoulders.

"Good," he responded primly. He reached around her to pick his drink up off the table.

"A Shirley Temple?" Laura teased, eyes and cleavage still directed at Albert's face.

"It's not for me."

He gestured at a chair. Despite the padded seat, Laura still winced as her bottom came in contact; Clarence's discipline had yielded more bruises than anticipated. She perched gingerly on the edge of the chair and crossed her legs, leaning on one hip, but it was neither a comfortable nor a flattering pose. Albert rolled his eyes. He took her hand, his fingers warm even through her satin glove, and tugged her toward him. She bit her lip disbelievingly as the agent pulled her into his lap. Even if this seat had not been eminently more comfortable than the chair, she would have persevered, if only to feel his thighs hot through the fabric of his trousers and smell the cigarettes on his breath. In short, Laura melted eagerly into his embrace.

"Better?" he asked quietly.

"Much!" she agreed, fondling his tie.

He watched her busy fingers for a long moment, then asked, "Why did you invite me here tonight, Laura?"

She shrugged and smiled, summoning a girlish blush. "I thought you'd enjoy the party."

"Well, if you thought I'd enjoy an evening spent away from your podunk one-stoplight town, you'd be right. But this carnival of kink? No comment. And if I see another polyester suit, pinky ring, or mounted deer head, I may have to contact whatever passes for a constabulary in this godforsaken corner of the world to shut the place down."

"You wouldn't!" she gasped theatrically, snaking her arms around his neck.

"I would." Albert looked around and took a breath to begin another tirade, but Laura craned her head to catch his eye and draw his attention back to her. "We can have a nice time, can't we?" she purred. "You and me?"

The agent chewed the inside of his cheek in a way that suggested that everything which might happen from here on out would be against his better judgment. She smiled winningly. Albert leaned forward to pick up the Shirley Temple, and she tilted with him, brushing her cheek as if accidentally against his newly-shaven jaw. He proffered the glass. "Here. Have a drink."

"Can't I have a real drink?" Laura pursed her lips into a pout. Albert's implacable gaze told her that her wiles would not sway him in this regard. She sighed and sipped daintily at the stirrer. The syrupy concoction cooled a throat she had not realized was dry.

"No alcohol. For either of us. But, after that spanking, I anticipate that endorphins and adrenaline will have dropped your blood sugar. This will bring it back up."

Laura enjoyed hearing him speak softly like this. His voice pulsed through her like a hot toddy, a soothing baritone with a bite. She took another sip of the virgin drink; his eyes were locked on her pursed lips. "Yes, Dr. Rosenfield," she teased.

At this he permitted a tiny smile to curve his mouth. It was not an entirely innocent one.

She cocked her head in amazement, regarding him for a long moment. "You're quite handsome when you smile, Dr. R."

Albert cleared his throat. Tentatively, he reached up one hand to stroke her hair. She sighed softly and arched her back in a way that would strike him as natural, presenting her cleavage in front of his face. He stared down at her breasts.

"Enjoying the party," Laura teased, "my special agent?"

He lifted one of her blonde locks to his nose and inhaled. "I'm beginning to." As if thinking better of his burgeoning relationship with her tresses, he smoothed her hair back down over her shoulders.

But Laura was not ready to throw in the towel. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, offering herself to him. "Tell me that you have bad intentions tonight, doc," she whispered.

She took one breath. Two. Bingo...she felt Albert lean into the curve of her throat and flick his tongue against the soft skin above her clavicle. Laura gasped at the sudden electric pleasure, feeling her nipples contract into almost painfully hard points. He kissed his way up her throat and back down. "Your skin feels so hot," he murmured against her, "...feverish." He turned his attention to her earlobe, tongue tracing the shell of her ear above the gaudy dangling earring she had pulled from the communal jewelry box earlier in the evening. "Tell me about this party you invited me to, Laura."

She had to struggle out from the flood of sensations washing through her body to answer him. She barely managed a breathy whisper. "It's just a party. You know."

"I've never been to a party where a bound man was being flogged in the corner," he commented wryly.

She let loose one of her jaded chuckles. "Here at Jack's, we make everyone's dreams come true." His eyes told her that cynicism was a hair-coat he had worn too long himself; her bravado elicited only sympathy from him. She stroked his spiky hair and asked him candidly, "Does it bother you? Whips and chains and domination?"

He sat upright and met her eyes, bringing his lips to within a hair's-breadth of her own. "No. So long as there are rules." Albert's hand curved around her hip; his fingers toyed with the lace trim on the bottom of her corset. Laura brushed her lips tentatively against his, but he did not take the bait. He continued to watch her, as if waiting for a signal.

"In this room there's only one rule," she murmured, tracing his jaw with her gloved forefinger. She giggled. "Well, two rules. Blackie doesn't want us to wreck the furniture. And no..."

"No what?" Albert hooked one thumb into the fabric of her panties and stroked the taut flesh over her hipbone.

Laura licked her lips slowly. "No penetration."

Albert's breath hitched.

"But in the back, all bets are off." Unable to meet his gaze, she did not have to fake this blush. She placed her palms on his chest. "Do you want to go in the back with me?"

An extraordinary grin split his face. He shook his head slowly.

Laura blinked in confusion.

Albert bit his lip, still grinning. "No, I think we can effect your cure right here."

"My cure?"

"Sure, beautiful. The doctor knows what ails you." He put a quick stop to her wondering look by cradling her jaw in his hand and claiming her mouth with his own. Laura yielded gratefully to this long-awaited kiss. His lips explored hers decisively. It was by no means a chaste kiss, but she could sense his restraint. When he released her, that unaccustomed smile was still plastered on his face.

"You're starting to make me nervous about this 'cure', grinning like that," she gasped, exhilarated.

"I promise: it won't hurt a bit."

"Just a prick?" she joked.

He shook his head and began to unfasten the hooks on the front of her corset. As soon as he was able, he snaked one hand inside the bodice to cup her breast. Laura kissed him again to cover her moan of pleasure. Her back arched involuntarily when his fingers brushed her nipple. He released her mouth, and she panted against his neck, awash with desire and clinging to his shoulders for support. Liquid pleasure dripped along her nerves. He caressed the hard pink pebble that was her nipple between thumb and forefinger, and she thought her eyes would roll back in her head. No man had ever brought her to this pitch with such ease.

"Oh, yes, this is very serious. We must deal with this immediately."

"Yes, Dr. Rosenfield," she whispered obediently.

He unhooked the remaining fasteners on her corset, then dipped his head to nuzzle her hitherto-neglected nipple. The sudden wet warmth of his mouth was glorious and thrilling. A familiar heat throbbed insistently between her legs.

"And I want these philistines to see what good care I take of you."

It took a few moments for the import of these words to filter through Laura's desire. Then her eyes flew wide open, and she looked around the saloon, suddenly very aware of the other two dozen people in the room. Most of them were intent on their own pursuits, but a few returned her startled gaze, the men with an encouraging leer, the women with a knowing smile or a wary eye. Laura stiffened. This intimacy with Albert summoned her modesty in a way that offering her bare backside for Clarence's discipline had not. Her hand flew to her mouth, and she tried reflexively to chew a nail through the satin glove.

"Laura," Albert said, recalling her gaze to his face.

She curled against him and played with the knot in his tie. "Have mercy," she begged, half-playfully, already knowing that she would accede to his every wish.

"Hey, I'm the sultan of sentiment, beautiful. But this is a serious medical matter. Trust me: I'm a doctor." His voice was light and teasing, but his eyes were resolute. They commanded obedience.

_I want you, _Laura thought desperately. _This is fun. I want this. I want you._

She took a deep breath and rose to her feet. She pushed the shell that was her corset to the floor. She took a long draw from the Shirley Temple's stirrer, her eyes roving the room, challenging anyone who wanted to watch her. A drop of condensation from the glass fell onto her chest and slid between her naked breasts. Several men stared, intrigued. She turned from them to Albert. Laura tossed her hair and slid down onto the agent's lap, this time straddling him, one long gartered thigh on either side of his hips. She settled her buttocks carefully, but her lust overpowered the pain of her bruises. She parted the flaps of his jacket, tossing his tie over one shoulder, and dragged her nails lightly down his chest. She felt the heat of his lean frame though his clothes.

"I'm ready for my treatment, doctor," Laura purred.

"Good girl," he murmured. "Now just one more thing. Put your thumbs together, behind your back." She complied eagerly, interest brightening her face. Albert reached under his jacket and pulled something from his belt. The handcuffs were clasped and tightened around her wrists before she even realized what he had retrieved. She struggled against the bindings, more from curiosity than fear, bending her elbows back in an effort to turn her thumbs out.

"I'm sorry, but I really felt the restraints were necessary." He stared with obvious interest as she bucked up and down on his lap, muscles flexing. Idly he traced the moist trail of the water droplet down her chest onto her belly. She ceased her struggles as goosebumps rose on her flesh at his touch. Albert tilted his head from one side to the other, admiring her. Then, casually, he leaned forward and began to tongue her left nipple. She sighed with delight as he massaged the taut berry, uncaring who should hear or see her pleasure. With soft fingertips he caressed the skin of her arms and legs, her back and belly. She dangled weightless, shivering with ecstasy and desire.

Someone behind her dropped a glass, and after the shattering there was laughter and shouting. Neither Laura nor Albert paid any attention.

The sensation in her left breast was building to an unbearable intensity. Feverishly, she nudged him toward her right nipple. He acquiesced without protest, wrapping his hands around her narrow waist. As the fullness began to grow in this breast, the fingers of his right hand slid down to her hips and thighs. His fingertips insinuated themselves under the hem of her panties.

"Oh, Doctor," she moaned.

His left hand curled into the thick blonde hair at the nape of her neck and held her steady. Her sigh of disappointment as his tongue left her breast was buried in his mouth, and she kissed him passionately. She welcomed his tongue eagerly between her lips. He did not let her escape the kiss when his thumb slipped into the crotch of her panties and began to explore her sex. Her folds were slick with desire. She braced her palms on the seat of the chair between his thighs when he brushed her taut nub.

"So swollen," he murmured against her lips. "This requires my immediate attention." He began to draw slow circles with the pad of his thumb. "See? That doesn't hurt at all, does it?"

Laura broke from the kiss, feeling faint, and tilted her head to gulp air. "No, Doctor."

"Actually making you feel better, isn't it?"

"Yes, Doctor," she gasped. She drew her legs up and squeezed her knees against his ribcage, tilting her hips to give him a better angle.

"You see, Laura, that persistent throbbing sensation," he murmured into her ear, "is caused by the pulse of blood filling the vessels around this little bundle of nerves. This one. Right here."

A sudden lightning bolt of ecstasy rocketed through that little bundle of nerves. Laura wailed. Her fingernails dug into the bottom of the chair seat. Then her lust returned, and the need for fulfillment grew even stronger. Every muscle in her body was tensed and ready.

"Oh, it's like that, is it?" His voice low in her ear was the twin of his thumb, driving her ever upward. "I should have known you would be hard to satisfy."

He leaned forward to suckle her breast once again. She cried out wordlessly at the electric charge that shot from her nipple to her groin. She was vaguely aware that his fingers, tangled in her locks, were pulling her hair. The nagging pain in her scalp sent her over the edge again. He laughed softly against her breast as she twisted with the wracking pleasure. But once more she found herself hungry for completion.

"More?" he asked, sitting up to regard her incredulously. His thumb ceased its work.

Laura mewled in frustration.

"What do you say?" he prompted.

"Please, oh, please!"

"That's all?" he asked mildly. He lifted his thumb to his mouth and observed her juices dripping down the heel of his hand. Ostentatiously, he licked his hand clean, humming with pleasure.

"Oh, please," Laura wailed. "Dr. Rosenfield, please help me, you're the only one who can make me feel better, please."

He began to stroke her again, ever so softly. She rubbed herself shamelessly against him, and he increased his pace. The words continued to tumble out of her.

"Please! It hurts so much, oh, if you don't help me, I'll just die, please, Dr. Rosenfield, please!"

"That's right, gorgeous." His voice in her ear again, smooth and rough at the same time. "That's right. Let it happen."

She could feel her climax approaching. She tensed herself in the face of it and found herself dangling from Albert's touch in a frenzy of ecstasy, his voice insistent in her ear, urging her on. Then she shrieked as the intense pleasure crashed through her body, leaving in its wake relief and tranquility. He held her tight while she shivered with release. Her knees buckled, and it seemed like ages until her feet hit the floor.

The sound of clapping made her open her eyes.

"Looks like we've got some fans," she drawled.

"A show like that deserves some paparazzi." Smirking, he reached into his pocket to retrieve a small set of keys. When he reached around her to unlock the cuffs, it was, apparently, necessary for him to nibble the curve of her throat. Hands freed, Laura pressed her palms against his chest and buried her head in his shoulder. Albert stroked her naked back, settling her.

Laura Palmer was surprised to realize that, in this moment at least, she felt safe and content. It was enough.

A/N: Endings _**sucks**_, I know. Alternate ending to introduce second chapter includes Albert's proud complaints about the puddle Laura has left in his lap and a trip to the back room to avoid breaking Blackie's rules for the saloon...Meh. It is what it is. Peace and love from this hatchet-woman for non-violence. ;)


End file.
